


To Lay Claim

by mialicia



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 08:35:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mialicia/pseuds/mialicia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In those moments, he knew this was his to give and hers to take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Lay Claim

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Natasha/Clint ficlet, but I was feeling angsty and I needed to get something on paper so ENJOY!

It was in those brief moments, after, adrenaline singing in their blood. Always in the dark, where the hungry eyes of fear were kept at bay by sheer will. They didn't need to see each other, only to feel the firm flesh, to hear the sometimes quiet, sometimes quickened breath of the other. At times they would fall back to their code names because the battle was still fresh in their minds and the Hawk and the Widow would let it drag them down into a place hardly spoken of in the light of day.

But here, now, with the battle won and the bruises still fresh, they had no time for formalities. Clint had moaned her name when Natasha had beckoned him closer, had locked the door, and she had sung his name, had praised it with her lips, and they were undone from there.

There was no need to rush, no need to hurry, and so they went slowly, feeling the other, making sure they were whole and substantial. When fingers skimmed over cuts they hissed but never jerked away, leaning into the touch and demanding more.

 _I am alive._ They were alive.

Natasha moved above Clint, her head thrown back as her skin buzzed with Clint's touch. He was already adding new bruises, fingers pressing against her flesh, rough over her hips. They didn't speak, the words in their movements, a body language all their own. Once Clint had tried to reverse their positions but Natasha had warned him off with a sound like a snarl and he had relented, knowing this was for her to take and him to give.

When Clint had started to sound desperate, her name a constant on his lips, Natasha leaned down. She dragged her tongue over his collarbone, behind his ear and he shuddered, words now useless to him. It then when Natasha smiled, teeth flashing in the dark, and she brought them to the soft flesh of his neck. Clint bucked, his back arching off the bed, and he came with his eyes screwed shut, nails carving half-moon crescents in Natasha's skin.

But Natasha saw him, watched him come undone, and licked the teeth marks she had left behind, above another set that was just beginning to fade. That was when she allowed herself to let go, the universe whiting out as she rode Clint through her own orgasm.

"They're gonna see, 'Tasha." Slow, drugged words as Clint opened his eyes, hooded and dark.

"Good." And again Natasha leaned down, worrying the bite-mark in a way that dragged another moan from Clint's throat.

A reassurance.

A claim.


End file.
